Surly Snobby

Friday, July 30, 2004

Just Say Mew

Harel Skaat / Image Hosted by ImageShack.usFirst of all:

הראל סקעת פה

It’s called giving the people what they want, since yesterday my hits from Israel outnumbered all but my hits from the States and the trend continues somewhat today. Clearly, they’re not looking for Surly Snobby. This is weird, since I’m Canadian but I’m certainly not complaining. I’ll accept all the attention I can get.

And now for something completely different / Image Hosted by ImageShack.usAnd now for something completely different. As the temperature creeps up into the high 20s – practically arctic for Toronto and the end of July/beginning of August (sigh what happened to our summer?) – I set up my improvised air conditioner. Now, as soon as you see the words “improvised air conditioner”, you should immediately know that you’re about to read another story about Noudnic the Cat.

I realize that I write about him a lot. It’s not that I’m a weird cat person, a topic Maktaaq deals with (along with a set of intriguing notions on the differences between men and women). It’s just that he’s far more interesting than TV, believe it or not. Remember, Noudnic is a creature that cannot get enough of chasing the reflection off my watch face up the walls and around the floors. This, believe me, is far more gripping than watching “Trading Spouses”, for example, a show that should never have been allowed to exist. If only I had a time machine and the ability to bend all of Southern California to my will.

I’m rather bored today. No temp or freelance work has appeared this week and the check for some other freelence I did months ago that I was supposed to receive two weeks ago has yet to appear. My entertainment options are therefore rather limited right now. I don’t feel like doing my “serious” writing since and I really should be cleaning my place for a guest I’ll be receiving tomorrow. And, as I’ve already explained, TV is no option. So to amuse myself my mind travels back in time, the closest I can get to that machine I'd hoped for in the previous paragraph, to my late teens when I was still living in Winnipeg and with my friend Happier-not-Teaching whom I’ve known since I was a foetus.

Blue Milk / Image Hosted by ImageShack.usOne thing that Happier-not-Teaching, whose name back then was either The Lizard Queen or The Magnificent Colourer of Milk, and I definitely did not do when we were bored was smoke a lot of pot. Oh no, cool and open-minded parents who, on a totally, completely undeniably unrelated topic, used to be hippies! Of course we filled our down time with studies and fervent prayer. Never ever, ever in ten million zillion thousand years would it ever have crossed our pure little minds, all fresh with the glory of G-d, to smoke so much pot that we would turn into hysterical giggle machines, reduced to exploding with laughter at what we perceived to be hilarious faces or strange-sounding words in the English language (Basmati! Rutabaga!). In fact, one evening we didn’t smoke so much while watching “The Exorcist” that we spent a sleepless night warding off imaginary pea soup-spewing demons with rotting skin and milky eyes. That never happened. Ever.

This is your brain on drugs / Image Hosted by ImageShack.usWell, at my advanced age of way-to-close-to-my-mid-30s I couldn’t smoke pot even if I wanted to. The last time I tried (I swear I didn’t inhale), it turned me into a stuttering, paranoid zombie, which is even less fun than it sounds. And so to finally get the story around to Noudnic, I decided that the most entertaining thing for me to do was push drugs to my cat. All I have to do is open the cupboard that contains his catnip and he sings like Mariah, but with more restraint as well as the ability to respect the natural phrasing of the music as well as the ear drums of the music.

I used to have a cat named Robin whom catnip would transform into a little calico blur zooming through the air at just below the speed of sound. But not Noudnic. This valiant hunter stares out the window, ambles about the apartment, purring with his tail straight up, and every once in a while gives me a little look through squinty eyes and chirps the kitty version of “Dude, I am so stoned!” before passing out with his head in one of my shoes. Smart, Noudnic. You’re the poster cat for an anti-drug campaign if I’ve ever seen one. Just say “mew”.

I told you I’d fit Noudnic into that overly-verbose mess somehow.

Haphazardly thrown together by Surly
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